


Through the Garden Gate

by owlmoose



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Leandra Hawke learns of the death of Eleanor Cousland, she thinks back on an adventure they shared as girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Garden Gate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended for the Dragon Age Women challenge in the summer of 2014. Inspired by a prompt from leahazel.

"Did you hear? The Blight's over."

Leandra looked up from her mending. Her daughter Marissa closed the door behind her and propped her staff up in the corner. "Truly? That's wonderful news."

Marissa nodded. "A Grey Warden killed the archdemon. Some noblewoman from the north. Cousland, that was her name. Daughter of the teyrn. She joined the Wardens after her parents and their entire household were killed. In a sneak attack, or some such." She hung up her cloak and picked up a piece of bread from the table. "Politics," she snorted, taking a bite before stalking off into the bedroom, leaving Leandra alone, the cloth of Carver's jerkin clenched in her hands. 

"Wait." She half stood up, her heart pounding. "The Couslands, you say? They were-- killed?"

After a pause, Marissa reappeared in the doorway. "That's what I heard. Taken out by another noble in a power struggle of some sort." She shrugged. "Does it matter? One teyrn or another, they're all the same. And we aren't even in Ferelden anymore."

Leandra sat back down in her chair, letting the sadness wash over her. "I knew the Couslands. Or-- one of them, at any rate." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, thinking of Eleanor and the day she had met her. So many years and a lifetime ago...

-x-

"Leandra?" Lady Amell's voice floated up the stairwell, followed by the lady herself, elegant in pale green silks. "Are you ready? Our guests will be here soon."

Leandra dislodged herself from the window seat, where she had been looking at the sky. Not at the neighbors having an argument across the way. No matter how interesting that might have been. "Yes, Mother." She smoothed down her own yellow gown. "Who is it that's coming?"

Mother straightened the ribbon in her hair. "My friend Elissa Dryden, and her daughter Eleanor, here visiting from Amaranthine. Eleanor is about your age, so I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about."

"Yes, Mother," Leandra said again. 

"Good. Now follow me, please, I think I hear the footman coming.

-x-

Eleanor was much taller than Leandra, her dark blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, a blue ribbon draggling down her back. Her mouth was set into a straight line, not returning Leandra's attempt at a friendly smile. "Hi," she said. 

Leandra dropped into a quick curtsey. "Hello."

Mother put her hand on Leandra's shoulder. "Now Leandra, why don't you show Eleanor to the library, and I'll send for you when dinner is ready."

"Yes Mother." Leandra gestured toward the door by the stairs. "It's right over here."

"Okay." Eleanor glanced up at her own mother, who gave her a light shove to her lower back. "Fine, I'm going." She stomped through the doorway with a scowl; Leandra could only watch, open-mouthed. If she behaved like that in another family's home, her father would break out the switch for sure. She hurried after Eleanor, and closed the door behind her. Eleanor stood by the window, hands behind her back, shoulder stiff and squared.

Leandra cleared her throat. "Can I, um, get you anything?"

Eleanor shook her head. Then she turned around with a sigh. "Sorry," she said. "I shouldn’t be rude to you. It's not your fault Mother made me come here."

"Oh." Leandra took a step away. "You didn't want to come to Kirkwall?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I mean, it's all right. I like seeing new places and meeting new people. But dressing up fancy for formal tea parties and having to be a lady all week?" She glanced down at her dress and grimaced. "No thanks. I'd rather be playing swords with my brother."

Leandra covered her mouth with a hand to keep it from dropping open. "You play swords?"

Eleanor smiled, and her eyes lit up. "Whenever I can! My father's man-at-arms is training me, and my brother too. Do you?"

Leandra shook her head vigorously. "It's not proper. And I wouldn't want to fight anyway." She shuddered. "My little brother Gamlen is always in the courtyard, swinging his wooden sword around. It's so loud. And so messy. He always comes back covered in dirt."

Eleanor laughed. "But that's half the fun!" She leaned against the window and tipped her head far back to look up at the sky. "It's a beautiful day out. Are you sure we have to stay in here?"

"Mother said so." But Leandra felt a bit of doubt creep into her voice. Eleanor seemed to want to see the city; wasn't it her duty as a good hostess to make her guest happy? And it would be nice to enjoy the sunshine. "Maybe we could ask to go out. Just for a little while. I can go ask Mother."

"Why ask?" Eleanor looked up at the window. "That window opens further, doesn't it?"

Leandra did gasp this time. "You wouldn't!"

"I would." Her smile grew wider. "But I guess you wouldn't." She went over to the door and cracked it open. Leandra peeked through and saw that the parlor was empty -- her mother and Lady Dryden must have gone into the dining room, or perhaps upstairs. Eleanor looked back over her shoulder. "Seems like the coast is clear."

She slipped out the doorway, and Leandra followed, looking up the stairs to the empty landing, then checking through the half-open door to the dining room. Lady Elissa sat at the table with Mother. Each woman held a glass of wine in her hand, and they were talking -- the light tinkle of Mother's laugh floated into the hall, followed by an unfamiliar chuckle. Leandra let out a breath of relief as they made into the foyer, only to half-crash into Eadward, the footman, as he entered from the courtyard.

"Miss Leandra?" he said, eyebrows half up, his Starkhaven accent sharp. "And where are you going, alone, at this hour?"

"I, ah..." Leandra glanced quickly at Eleanor, then drew herself up to her full height. "My guest requested that we pay a visit to the Chantry, so that we may pray to Andraste and the Maker."

"Oh." He stepped aside. "Well, all right then. But do hurry back."

She walked by, head held high, her steps almost marching. "Quick thinking," Eleanor murmured as they passed through the courtyard and to the front door.

"Not really," Leandra admitted. "It's just that the Chantry's the only place in the city I'm allowed to go by myself."

Eleanor chuckled. "Well that's boring." They opened the door and stepped out into the bustling street. "Isn't there somewhere more fun we can go?"

Leandra kept walking in the direction of the Chantry, until they were out of sight of the front door of the Amell mansion. Then she paused, stepping into the shade of the city walls. "There's the markets." They could wander through the stalls, touch the brightly colored fabrics, smell all the spices. "But I don't have any money."

"Neither do I." Eleanor turned toward her left and pointed up the stairs. "What's up there?"

"The Viscount's Palace," Leandra said. But that was boring, just adults doing the work to keep the city running. She would rather go to the Chantry, with the candles and the chanting and the beautiful statue of Andraste. 

"Does the Viscount live there?" Eleanor asked.

Leandra shrugged. "I think so. Why?"

"I have an idea. Come on!" Eleanor took her hand and pulled her away from the wall, pushing through the crowds to head up the broad stairway.

It was easier to follow than to argue, so Leandra allowed Eleanor to pull her along. Together they charged up the steps, weaving through the small crowd of nobles and merchants and guardsmen, all going about their business. When they reached the broad marble landing, Eleanor stepped aside and once again Leandra followed, pressing her back against the wall, watching the people go by: guardsmen and a few templars in gleaming armor; two women in silk dresses walking arm in arm and talking, clad in colorful silks; a Rivani merchant with a rakish hat perched on top of his head, marching up the stairs with purpose; an elf girl with a rolled up parchment under her arm brushing past him in a rush. It was like looking out the mezzanine window, but from close up. 

But she didn't have much time to observe, because Eleanor was already dragging her out of the alcove and in through a side door. They stepped into a quiet corridor and followed it to another wooden door. Eleanor pushed it open, and then they were in the Viscount's gardens.

Leandra looked at Eleanor. "How did you know this was here?"

Eleanor shrugged. "Good guess. I saw an elf with dirt on his pants and a trowel in his back pocket come out the door. Seemed likely that he was one of the Viscount's garden staff. And I was right." She took Leandra's hand again. "Let's have a look around."

The garden was not large, only a little bigger than the patch of landscaped ground behind Leandra's own house. But the gardeners had done beautiful work in the small space. Trees stood along the edges of the courtyard, nestled up against the walls of the palace, leaving the center open for flowerbeds lined with bushes, trimmed into neat geometric shapes. The flowers were all blooming, a riot of pink and yellow and gold, and despite herself Leandra was drawn to them, pulling her hand free of Eleanor's to get closer. She got down on her knees and buried her face in a stand of golden blooms, breathing deep to smell them. "Pretty," she murmured.

Eleanor leaned forward and brushed her fingertip across the soft petals. "I dare you to pick one." 

Leandra jumped to her feet. "I couldn't!" She threw a glance over her shoulder, but the garden was empty, no other people in sight. "I couldn't," she repeated, but with less conviction this time. A bouquet would look so pretty on the parlor table. And if Mother never learned where she got them...

"No one is looking," Eleanor cajoled. "I'll keep watch. Go on, just take a couple."

"All right." Leandra leaned over again and took a slow look over her options, then carefully plucked two of the yellow blooms, then reached out toward the pink ones.

"Hey! You there!" The shout echoed across the courtyard. Leandra tried to stand up and look over her shoulder at the same time, but in her haste she slipped on the earth and fell, face-first, into the flowerbed.

"Oh no." Eleanor was laughing. "Oh no, get up, they've seen us!" She grabbed Leandra by the elbow and helped pull her up. Leandra got to her feet and together they ran, hand in hand, back to the garden door.

It closed behind them and they kept running, down the stairs and all the way back to the estate. "This way!" Leandra hissed, pulling Eleanor around the corner and into an alcove.

Once there, Leandra leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. She glanced down at her pale yellow dress, streaked with dirt and grass stains. Raising her hand to brush the soil from her face, she was started to feel something soft against her cheek. "Look," she said, holding her hand out to Eleanor. "I still have the flowers."

Eleanor stared at the flowers, then up into Leandra's face. She bit her lip. Then she started to giggle. Leandra pressed her lips together as hard as she could, trying not to follow suit, but the bubble was in her chest, rising through her throat, and the first laugh escaped. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Laugher spilled out of her and soon she was doubled over, clutching her stomach with her free hand.

"Did you see--" she had to stop, coughing out another laugh. Then she straightened up, grinning at Eleanor. "The look-- the look--"

"On the -he -he gardener's _face _??" Eleanor threw her head back and slapped a hand on her stomach, setting Leandra off into another gale of laughter. "I thought he was going to turn purple!"__

__They laughed hard and long, leaning on each other's shoulders. Finally, when she could breathe again, Leandra stood up with a sigh, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes. "My mother is going to kill me," she said._ _

__"Mine too." Eleanor cocked her head sideways. "Your poor dress."_ _

__Leandra looked down at the muddy smear down her front. "It's not torn, just dirty. I wonder if..." She took a quick look down the street. "I have an idea. This way."_ _

__She followed the wall around to the gate that lead to their small backyard garden. "If we come back in this way, we should be able to sneak past the kitchens and into my room. If no one catches us, I can change into a clean dress."_ _

__"Won't the laundress tell your mother?"_ _

__Leandra shook her head. "She likes me." She leaned in to Eleanor, lowering her voice. "I tell her all the good gossip when she comes to pick up the washing."_ _

__"What if they catch us climbing over the gate, though?"_ _

__"We're already in trouble," Leandra pointed out. "And at least this way there's a chance."_ _

__Eleanor glanced up at the top of the gate, then at Leandra. "All right."_ _

__Leandra tugged on the handle, but it didn't give. "Locked," she said. "Good, that means no one is in the garden. Give me a boot and then I'll open the gate for you."_ _

__Eleanor knelt down and cupped her hands together, like a groom at the stables on the other side of town. Leandra rested both hands on top of the gate, gripping the rough wood, and then stepped on Eleanor's open palms with her left foot. Then she jumped, letting Eleanor push her up, scrambling up the side. Heaving her whole body up, she tumbled over and down, hitting the hard dirt path on her hands and knees. "Ooof!"_ _

__From the other side, she heard a hissing gasp. "Are you all right?"_ _

__"Fine," Leandra wheezed, rolling over onto her back, spreading her arms and legs wide, opening her stinging palms to the side. "Just-- get my breath." She spent just a moment there, looking up at the wide blue sky. Then she scrambled to her feet, unlocked the gate, and opened it to let Eleanor inside. Together, they crept through the garden, past the greenhouse and to the kitchen door. Leandra had to get up on tiptoe to peer through the window, into the thankfully empty kitchen. She looked at Eleanor with a nod, then opened the door and led her inside, into the hall, and up the stairs to Leandra's bed chamber. Leandra closed the bedroom door and then leaned against it, eyes closed, breathing hard."_ _

__"I can't believe that worked." Eleanor sat down on the bed, springs squeaking. "We actually got away with it."_ _

__Leandra opened her eyes wide. "I wonder what else we could get away with."_ _

__"We're here all week," said Eleanor, drawing her legs underneath her with a grin. "Plenty of time to find out."_ _

__Leandra giggled, then went to the wardrobe to pull out a fresh dress. She'd just tell Mother that she'd wanted to show off her new pink silks, and no one would ever be the wiser._ _

-x-

__Leandra walked into her old bed chamber. It was as dusty and empty as the rest of the house, the furniture mostly gone or smashed, all the heirlooms of her childhood long ago sold to fund Gamlen's bad habits. But books were not that valuable; perhaps... yes, the small bookshelf was still here, lined with volumes of the Chant and Thedas's history. And buried on the shelf, a small book of children's tales. Leandra's breath caught as she thought of Eleanor, their first adventure together, the week of escapades that followed, until Mother and Aunt Elissa had caught them eating stolen candies in the market. She'd never seen Eleanor again, but they had corresponded for years, until she fled Kirkwall with Malcolm. Leandra ran a finger along the book's dusty spine and wondered if Eleanor had gotten that last letter, what she'd thought of the news if she had. Already married to Bryce Cousland with her first son in her arms, married by arrangement and for love both. Leandra had always hoped that Eleanor would have understood, but there was no way to know, really._ _

__Leandra pulled the book off the shelf and turned to the middle; two dried flowers, one gold and the other a faded pink, rested against the center crease. She smiled a sad smile and closed the book, placing it back on the shelf, and considered how one might arrange an audience with the Hero of Ferelden._ _


End file.
